


Awake Unto Me

by lextenou



Category: Grease (1978)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Role Reversal, Alternate Universe - Western, American West Law Was Not Black and White, F/F, Hopeful Ending, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Light Angst, Revenge Served Cold With Justice Sprinkles, Ride or Die Friendship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-16
Updated: 2018-12-16
Packaged: 2019-09-19 22:57:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,604
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17010759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lextenou/pseuds/lextenou
Summary: Sandy Olsson, the Diamond Dingo, ain't much for the niceties in life.Too bad she also ain't much for denying those what are hers.





	Awake Unto Me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [escritoireazul](https://archiveofourown.org/users/escritoireazul/gifts).



> Title from Stephen Foster's "Beautiful Dreamer".

"Excuse me, sir?"

Tipping his hat back, Vince Fontaine leaned forward into the pretty young thing that smiled coquettishly at him. It had looked like the day would be a bust for him, what with the stagecoach wheel coming off 'round the last bend. He'd dispatched his shotgun to fetch after the stupid thing while he looked over their cargo. The lockbox was still secured tightly when he'd checked, bringing a grumble to his lips. He hated it when they secured things properly. It made it much harder to make things disappear.

Thankfully, he'd been brought out of his burgeoning ire by the sweet tones of the slender young woman that had pulled up next to him. He turned as she slid from the back of her horse, her skirts barely shifting to show a hint of booted feet. The trimly corseted waist accentuated her youthful curves and his hands twitched to be able to wrap around the sweet innocent that had stumbled into him.

She might not be a wheel, but she was a damned sight a better diversion and looked to be a better ride.

"Hello there, little lady."

The young woman smiled, a few strands of her blonde hair escaping from the confines of her pretty bonnet. "Afternoon, sir. I do so hate to be a bother." One of her hands raised, her delicately gloved fingers brushing lightly against the line of her jaw as she eyed him. He watched, the heat of the afternoon sun heating him from the outside in as much as this girl's presence was heating him from the inside.

"No bother, you pretty young thing." He didn't bother to hide the leer in his voice, his mouth twisting into a lecherous grin.

"Oh! I do so enjoy hearing that." Her hand raised and he met the steady open mawed gaze of an unblinking Peacemaker. He blinked.

The echoes of the gunshot did not reverberate long.

Didn't make no nevermind to Sandy Olsson, the Diamond Dingo, whether the man survived the shot to his pecker. After what he'd done to Marty, he deserved that and more. With his rapidly weakening cries as her soundtrack, Sandy pulled her skirts free from her waist, pulling the loose fabric free from her belted trousers before she folded the cloth and shoved it into her saddlebag. A few moments quick work in the wagon's passenger compartment saw her shoving the heavy lockbox on top and latching the saddlebag closed. Swinging up into her saddle, she spared one glance to the man barely writhing in the dirt, the hard packed dust smeared into broad swipes of mud with the weakening man's pulsing life's blood erupting from the source of his downfall. Few more minutes at most and it would be like as not that the buzzards would feast well in the coming days.

"Marty Maraschino sends her regards."

With a click of her tongue and a nudge of her knee, Sandy directed her horse to turn in the direction of Rydell, population 760, plus or minus a few cattle. Most like, Mayor McGee would take kindly to Sandy's success at retrieving the lockbox. Didn't do much good for the town when sneak thieves skulked through the town, much less what else rustlers of their ilk got tangled up in.

Didn't do much good for the town for Sheriff Calhoun to be so het up over that Zuko boy, neither, but that was neither here nor there.

The ride back to town was uneventful, particularly once Simcox rejoined her. A brief nod was enough to indicate that Patty had handled the shotgun without a problem. If the men were found, it would be ascribed to one of the roving bands that glanced by Rydell, or a scuffle. Their load hadn't been on the books, and it wasn't like St. Bernadette's would raise a fuss over the loss of the men.

After all, the lockbox didn't officially exist.

The meeting with Mayor McGee went much like Sandy expected. The brash woman was appreciative, and expressed her kind feelings in gold. Hefting the bag in her hand, Sandy smiled. A bit of a jaunt through the hills and she'd be able to exchange her haul at the bank. Wasn't like many questioned her sources, what with everyone knowing she came from down Australia way.

Her family's reputation served her well in the wild expanse of the American West.

She strode into the saloon, pushing through the door and into the relative calm of the late afternoon crowd. Too early yet for many of the choring range hands to make their way in - most who occupied the tables didn't have much going for them, or worked off hours to the God fearing folk of the town.

A chair scraped back as Sandy leaned against the scarred wooden bartop, her forearms resting against the edge as her boot rested on the rail. She listened silently as booted feet sounded against the broad wooden floorboards, making their way steadily toward Sandy as she raised two fingers to the barkeep. Behind her, a solid form wrapped in a long, dusty jacket halted just behind her. She didn't have to glance around to know there were no others nearby, and the continued quiet murmur of voices betrayed no anticipation of trouble.

"Thought I told you I didn't want to see you again." Whisky roughened and with a rasp born of hard emotion, the voice that sounded from behind Sandy traced over Sandy's exposed nerves. Her hand held a minute tremble as she slid a coin across the counter toward the barkeep, her hands wrapping around the two short glasses that had been delivered.

Turning around in place, she extended one of the glasses to her companion. Blazing, the sharpened honey and whiskey gaze that pinned Sandy darted down to her hand before returning to glare at the placid gunslinger.

"Hello, Betty."

Betty Rizzo let out a low, annoyed huff and wrapped her hand around the proffered glass. Tossing back the whiskey in a single slug, she deposited the glass back on the bartop. "Why are you here, sunshine."

Sandy inhaled deeply, releasing her breath before knocking back her own whiskey. She dropped her glass onto the bartop with a quiet thunk, her free hand stretching in the space between them to brush against Rizzo's hip, just past where the shiny silver star sat on her belt. "Marty." The myriad emotions that flicked through Rizzo were barely betrayed, only the brief narrowing of her eyes denoting any form of response. Sandy laughed humorlessly. "It's done."

Sandy's hand tightened around Rizzo's hip, her fingers digging into the fabric. The warmth of the whiskey in her belly was mingling with the dusty leather musk that surrounded the woman before her, leaving Sandy's senses reeling. Her gaze fixed lazily on the point of Rizzo's chin, idly noting the way that the muscles of her jaw flexed and released. 

Rizzo's hand wrapped around Sandy's wrist, the grip firm. A stern glance at the barkeep was met with his three fingers raised and Rizzo gave him a short nod. Keeping her grip firm on Sandy's wrist, Rizzo pulled her along through the wide room. The table of Calhoun's T-Birds didn't dare raise their gaze to watch them, keeping their eyes on the casual card game they'd picked up after their shift with the Sheriff. Putzie didn't heal up well from Rizzo's pounding the last time. Man still limped around something fierce, complaining about his knee every time it looked like the weather was about to turn. 

The low murmur of voices picked up slightly as they ascended the large staircase, before halting momentarily at the slam of the door to room number three. Nervous laughter tittered through them before they resumed their drinking and gaming, content to ignore the goings on of two of the town's favored residents.

The door slamming closed had not been entirely intentional. Rizzo really had just meant to close it, firmly.

Unfortunately for her intentions, she had pulled Sandy close and captured her mouth, pressing her against the open door. Sandy had fallen back against the solid door, their combined weight slamming it closed with finality. Rizzo's hands were wrapped around Sandy's wrists, pinning them against the wooden door as she claimed Sandy's lips. Their bodies pressed together, the sharp points of the star on Rizzo's belt digging into them. Rizzo pressed firm kisses against the line of Sandy's throat.

"No more." Her tongue traced against the corded muscle of Sandy's throat, and her teeth nipped. "I can't, not if you are going to-"

Sandy wrenched her hand free of Rizzo's grip and fisted her hand in Rizzo's hair, pulling her head sharply back. Sandy forced their eyes to meet, her breath coming shortly as she met the pain of Betty's gaze.

"I will not stand by while I and mine are taken advantage of. But I _will_ come home to you." Betty's grip loosened on Sandy's other wrist and she tugged it free, pressing her hand against her Betty's cheek. "I will always come home to you." Sandy leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to Betty's lips, tasting the salt of their tears. "You are my strength."

Betty wrapped her arms around Sandy, holding her tightly as her emotions ran rampant through her. She inhaled deeply of the scent of sun warmed skin and sage. Her eyes closed and she relished the sensation of her lover in her arms.

It would be enough.

It would have to be.

She did love a woman too pure to be Pink, after all.


End file.
